Ivory
by Katia-chan
Summary: Until that moment, he had never known there was life behind those empty eyes. Akito on Ren Overdramatized? Probably


Ivory

By Katia-chan

A/N: Extended drabble, not super well written, but it poked the "Go" button in my brain to be written, so here it is.

The piece of music that poked the button was Sonata8, by Beethoven. Beautiful piano.

Disclaimer: nope, still nothing.

XXX

The hall is dark, filled with the silence that comes after a large crowd. New Years ended a few days ago, the decorations were stored, rooms cleaned, and now it feels as if there were never any festivities here at all. There are only the ghosts of the memories of the three day long celebration, only visible in the small breezes that carry the faintest scents of perfumes that have never been worn by anyone who lives here, or the very occasional small dish that some maid neglected to discover and whisk away.

I stand in my bare feet in the hall and shiver, listening to the wind whipping around the outside of the house. It too is searching for the people who used to be here, pounding it's hands on the windows and doors trying to get in. I try to pretend my shaking is merely because of cold; I am not frightened. The harsh noises are merely an annoyance, something I can banish when soever I please.

The illusion is hard to keep up, because standing here, I am aware for one of the rare moments, that I am nine years old, that the wind will not obey me as it should, and that I am terrified. I'm terrified of the wind, terrified of the silence, terrified of my own body that is betraying me, the cold that settles in my chest and makes me know that fevers will follow this night. I feel like a human child, not a god, and it makes me angry, but i'm to cold to be angry. Again I try to fool myself, I got out of bed to observe the house, to make the rounds of a master looking over his domain. I did not get up because the wind was fighting to get into my room, monsters never occurred to me, I was much to old, I was a god.

Again this little trick doesn't last long as the wind gives another fierce howl, rattling the window near me. I start forward, my heart pounding in my chest. Maybe i'll go find Hatori. He'll give me his doctor's look, mixed with his respect. He won't dare scold me, but he'll look concerned, he'll feel my forehead to make sure i'm not feverish. He won't make me admit i'm afraid.

I could go find Shigure, he would make me smile, probably even make me laugh, but he would make me say that I was scared, and that I will not do.

I walk down the hall towards the study, hoping Hatori is keeping himself up late reading again. He does that often, and i'll be very angry if he's in bed now. I approach the door and push it open, not knocking, but not loud either. The well oiled door swings open without a sound and I step into the doorway, my chin up almost defiantly, ready for his look.

It doesn't come. Hatori is not in the room. She is.

I stand frozen, staring wide-eyed into the room. My mother sits at the other end, at the old and beautiful piano. Her fingers carress the keys, and for the first time I can recall there is music flowing from the instrument. I want to stop watching, I want to leave, but I can't.

Her hair is tangled, flowing down her back. Her shoulders are straight, proud, a posture that shouldn't have suited her, but that did. There was only a brief flash of hatred in my stomach, just a flicker. It was dowsed by her, for once. My eyes were fixed on her long fingers, rippling over the keys so softly. I had never seen her touch anything like that. My mothers hands were not gentle, they hadn't been since he died.

There are no lights on, only a candle lit sitting on top of the piano, over her music. Her head is tilted back though, and I have a feeling her eyes are closed. She moves slowly, elegantly, and it makes my breath catch in my throat. This woman isn't my mother, she is to gentle, to calm.

She must have heard me, because she turns briefly. Despite myself I feel a jolt of fear run through me. We both know this is not a moment I should be watching, that this is an interruption I would pay dearly for. She looks at me, her gaze lingering on my face for a long time. I stare back, the fear slowly draining out of me. Her face is dim in the candle light, it reflects off her high cheekbones, and there is even a flicker in her empty eyes. All images of the face twisted in fury are forgotten for a moment. She does look beautiful, calm and serene. She is a queen for the moment, and for some reason that doesn't bother me. How could it? To see her changed this much, to see the woman my father probably married, it shocks me.

We linger there for a brief second that feels like an eternity. She doesn't smile, doesn't yell, just gives me the smallest of nods. I come into the room and move across it slowly, coming to a stop at her side. She says nothing to me, but turns her gaze back to the piano. The song lifts and her fingers move faster, the intensity climbing. I can see it in her whole body, her fingers tense and dance, and it's as if something's rising inside her, filling her. I hold my breath, watching her face, watching how she seems to lift and to grow. I'm half terrified of what will happen to her, she looks as if she will merely shatter into a thousand pieces from the sheer force of the music and from the sheer power in it and her.

Then the moment ends, her fingers slow, her face relaxes and her body seems to slump for a moment before returning to it's proud straightness. I feel the energy draining out of my own legs and sink slowly to the floor at her feet. It's wrong, a god sitting at the feet of his servant, but I can't help it. There is something here I can't understand, can't control, and i'm to confused to want to. I still don't touch her, but I lean my head on the leg of the instrument, the music floating over my head and soothing me as nothing else has ever been able to. She continues to play, and despite myself my eyes close slowly, and I drift off to the sounds of her playing.

I wake sometime later in the same place, but the room is dark. The candle has been blown out and the music has stopped. There is no one there, she must have left. I stay where I am, to tired to move, feeling as if all the energy has been drained from me. I don't notice the door opening until there is a cool hand on my forehead.

"Time to go back to bed, you've got a fever." I look up blearily and see Hatori. He bends and scoops me up from the floor, cradling me to his chest. I bury my face in his shirt and allow myself to be carried back to my room. Neither of us say anything until he's laid me back in my bed, wiping my face with a cool cloth.

"She was beautiful," I murmur, only half coherently. I can't quite keep the shock from my voice. His hand only pauses for a second, and then continues it's soothing strokes.

"Yes, she was," he murmurs. And I don't know if it's just the fever, but he sounds almost relieved. So maybe I wasn't the only one who thought she had been destroyed forever, and now maybe he wasn't the only one who cared if she was. He nurtured the little sparks of life in this family, and maybe for once my mother and I had found one of those little sparks.

I wasn't sure why, but that thought made me happy. I drifted off to sleep beneath Hatori's hand.

When morning came there were only the faintest flickers of the night before, but they were still there, fluttering under my skin , waiting to maybe save something inside of me, something that might have died otherwise.


End file.
